Half a Broken Gun

Su Yu stepped forward.

He crossed between the two towering stone pillars that exuded a chilling, murderous aura.

There were no security guards to stop him, nor any tedious registration procedures.

Today was still one day before the official registration.

On campus, most people were freshmen like him, arriving early to scout the place, along with hurried upperclassmen wearing various-colored martial arts uniforms.

Su Yu carried the faded, old canvas bag slung over his back.

His hands were shoved into his pants pockets.

He walked aimlessly along the wide, tree-lined main road.

Capital Wu University was enormous.

So enormous it felt like an independent city.

The concentration of blood energy in the air was even several times higher than in downtown Jiangcheng.

Without realizing it,

Su Yu followed the flow of people and arrived at the very center of the campus.

The view suddenly opened up.

Before him lay a massive artificial lake.

Weiming Lake.

The lake water was deep and dark. There were no fountains, nor any pleasure boats for visitors.

Even on the lake’s surface, not a single breath of wind could be felt.

Dead silence.

Oppressive.

Su Yu stopped, his gaze piercing across the calm water, fixed on the center of the lake.

There stood no ornate pavilions or towers.

Only a bare, pitch-black, massive reef, radiating deathly stillness.

On that rock,

half of a dark-red spear was thrust in at an angle.

The spear tip had broken off, vanished without a trace.

The exposed shaft was covered with countless cracks, like a dry riverbed—dense, web-like fissures.

It looked battered and forlorn.

Yet, this half-ruined weapon made everyone passing by unconsciously soften their steps, their eyes filled with profound reverence.

Su Yu approached along the lakeside path.

By the lake stood a large black stone stele.

On it were carved words that reeked of blood and slaughter.

Su Yu’s eyes fell on the characters, which looked as if they had been chiseled by axes and blades:

“In the 240th year of the Daxia Calendar,”

“A massive earth fissure suddenly erupted within Kyoto.”

“Tens of thousands of high-level beasts surged onto the surface like a black tide. Kyoto was on the verge of annihilation.”

“The Third Principal of Capital Wu, alone and wielding his spear,”

“Fought for seven days and seven nights at the heart of the rift.”

“He slew over ten thousand high-level beasts.”

“When his strength was exhausted, to stop a ninth-rank beast king from emerging,”

“The Principal ignited his entire blood energy, sacrificing his life, and drove this spear deep into the core node of the fissure.”

“He used his life to seal it.”

“Later, the military arrived and sealed the rift.”

“From the ruins, only half of the broken spear was recovered.”

“Its dark-red color is the dried blood of the Principal’s heart, eternally unfading.”

“It is named: Soul-Suppressing Spear.”

After reading the inscription,

Su Yu stood still, unmoving for a long time.

Seven days and seven nights.

One man, one spear, suppressing tens of thousands of high-level beasts.

In the end, he gave his life to seal the rift.

What unparalleled tragedy.

What heroic sorrow.

Su Yu looked at the solitary remnant of the spear in the lake’s center, a deep respect flickering in his profound eyes.

He did not deliberately hide his cultivation.

One thousand points of blood energy at the Martial Master realm flowed slowly through his body like a great river.

He tried to release a sliver of his perception to touch that sixty-year-old peerless, ferocious weapon.

Bang!

The instant Su Yu’s spiritual power barely grazed the edge of the Soul-Suppressing Spear,

A horrifying killing intent, indescribable in words,

as if crossing sixty years of time, carrying the crushing pressure of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, slammed violently into Su Yu’s sea of consciousness!

Su Yu’s face drained of color in an instant.

His body shook uncontrollably, staggering fiercely.

He stepped half a pace back with his right foot, stamping a deep footprint into the hard alloy walkway before barely steadying himself.

Cold sweat instantly soaked through his back.

Su Yu’s pupils contracted sharply.

Shock!

Utter shock!

He was now a genuine Martial Master!

A terrifying existence with one thousand points of blood energy!

Yet in that instant,

confronted with this half-broken spear—its owner already fallen for sixty years—

he actually felt the helplessness of an ant gazing at the stars!

That one thousand points of blood energy, before this remnant pressure, were like a single spark in the midst of a violent storm.

If the pressure had wished, it could have crushed him utterly at any moment!

“Too powerful…”

Su Yu gasped for breath, forcefully cutting off his perception.

“Even just the remnant pressure—one thousand points of blood energy cannot bear it.”

“What realm of monster was the Third Principal back then?”

A Martial King? A Martial Emperor?

Or even… beyond the Martial Venerable?

Su Yu didn’t know.

But he finally understood why Lin Zhengtian had said Capital Wu University was a battlefield of prodigies.

Heritage.

This was the heritage of the highest martial arts institution in the Daxia Empire!

At this moment,

many people had gathered around the shores of Weiming Lake.

Some upperclassmen in various martial arts uniforms sat cross-legged on the lakeside grass, their eyes half-closed.

Others, like Su Yu, were freshmen full of curiosity and awe.

Everyone stared intensely at the spear in the lake.

Their brows furrowed.

It seemed they were struggling to comprehend something.

Not far away,

a middle-aged man wearing the uniform of a Capital Wu instructor was leading a dozen freshmen, standing by the lake.

“See clearly?”

The instructor pointed at the ruined spear in the lake, his voice low and forceful.

“This is the spiritual totem of our Capital Wu.”

“It’s also the first stop you freshmen must visit after entering the campus.”

The freshmen followed the instructor’s finger, their eyes filled with reverence.

“Within this spear is contained the purest, most domineering, and most resolute wisp of spear intent left by the Third Principal before his death.”

A flash of fervor crossed the instructor’s eyes.

“In the path of martial arts, techniques and methods can all be learned.”

“But ‘intent’ is the hardest to comprehend!”

“If any one of you can grasp even the slightest hint of understanding from this broken spear…”

The instructor paused, his voice suddenly rising.

“Within the same rank, you will be unmatched in kill power!”

“You might even slay those of higher rank!”

Whoosh—

The dozen freshmen stirred restlessly.

Every face burned with fervent desire, as if they wanted to rush into the lake and pull the spear into their arms.

Killing above one’s rank.

Those four words held a fatal temptation for every martial artist.

But.

The instructor immediately poured cold water on their enthusiasm without mercy.

“But all of you, put away those little thoughts!”

“Don’t rush blindly.”

“And don’t overreach.”

The instructor snorted coldly.

“This spear intent is too overbearing, too tragic.”

“Without having experienced real seas of blood and mountains of corpses, without possessing an absolute will to live facing death, there is no way to resonate with it.”

“Often, only one person in many years at Capital Wu can barely draw a response from the Soul-Suppressing Spear—a peerless prodigy.”

“The last person who grasped a trace of spear intent from here,”

“was the senior who now guards the Northern Abyss, the War God Senior, ten years ago.”

At the words “War God,”

the fire in the freshmen’s eyes instantly froze, replaced by deep despair.

One in ten years?

A being at the level of a War God?

Then what chance did they, common geniuses, have—not even a sip of soup?

“So, keep things in perspective.”

The instructor waved his hand.

“Just treat it as paying tribute to our martyr ancestors and experiencing a baptism of martial will. That’s enough.”

“Find a spot to sit down and try to take a look,” he said.

“It’s best if you feel something, but it’s normal to come away with nothing. Don’t push yourself to the point of losing your mind.”

The freshmen could only scatter helplessly.

Each found a place, imitating the seniors by sitting cross-legged and staring intently at the center of the lake.

Su Yu stood at the very back of the crowd.

He withdrew his gaze.

Instead of crowding with the other freshmen,

he found a quieter corner overgrown with weeping willows.

He sat cross-legged,

his eyes half-closed.

Su Yu concentrated his spiritual energy intensely.

Tracing the source of the pressure he had felt moments ago,

he tried to reach out to the fierce aura swirling above the lake’s center.

One minute.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Half an hour passed.

Su Yu slowly opened his eyes,

his brow deeply furrowed.

He rubbed his aching temples again and again, letting out a sigh.

He had gained nothing.

Other than sensing that overwhelming, nearly suffocating aura,

he couldn’t grasp any so-called “spear intent” at all.

It was like a blind man looking at a masterpiece of art—

he could sense its presence,

but could not grasp its essence in the least.

“Just as expected,”

Su Yu muttered inwardly.

“This kind of thing—relying on insight, fate, and vague talent—has never suited me.”

“I’m just an ordinary person who climbed up from the bottom.”

“I don’t have that kind of innate, extraordinary perception.”

Looking at the broken spear half-submerged in the lake’s center,

his deep eyes revealed no frustration at his failure.

Instead, a flicker of calm crossed them.